Roy Frank Wyatt, Jr - Passed away on September 02, 2023

In loving memory of
Roy Frank Wyatt, Jr
  • Passed away on September 02, 2023

  • Obituary
  • Sign Tribute Wall
  • Send an E-Card
  • Light a Candle
  • Send Flowers
  • Photos

Obituary

Roy Frank Wyatt Jr., 67, of Christmas, Florida passed away on Saturday, September 2, 2023. He was born on May 29,1956, in Christmas, Florida to Roy F.(Billy) Wyatt Sr. and Janice Ready Wyatt. He was of Baptist Faith.
Roy was a retired commercial fisherman. He enjoyed fishing, hunting, cooking, BBQ, and hanging out with his friends.
He is survived by his sister’s; Shelia Wyatt Layne (Jim) of Leesburg, FL and Penny Wyatt Stevens of Lakeland, FL; his daughter, Alisha Wyatt Bateman (Jerry) of Mt. Dora, FL and his son, Roy F. Wyatt III of Wasilla, AK; 3 grandchildren; Jerrett and Cameron Bateman and Hailey Wyatt.


Send flowers to the family to show you care. Order Now

Tribute Wall

Leave a reply



Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

  1. Eugene Duncan posted an image:
    18 Sep 2023
    This picture brings back a memory of a weekend when we were fishing in Marco Island. The year is about 1973 on a beautiful uninhabited island, where Billy Wyatt (Roy’s dad) built a little cabin on the inland side of the island. The island was about ¾ mile long and ¼ mile wide with a white sandy beach that ran the full length of the island on the Gulf side. It was heaven on earth on the outer edge of the island, but Hell awaited in the middle.  <br />
<br />
The only sign of civilization on the island was an old Artesian well gushing a 6-inch column of fresh water higher than your head. It was right in the middle of an overgrown jungle of mangroves and an environment hostile to anything with warm blood.  <br />
<br />
The old plywood cabin was about 16x16 with plywood shutters covering metal screens on all four sides. Inside was GI bunks, a table in the middle, a kitchen sink with running water and a gas stove. The water for the sink was collected from the rain and stored in a 55-gallon barrel setting high above the sink. Gravity is your friend, sometimes!  <br />
<br />
When you arrived at the island, by boat, the first thing you did was open everything up and spray all the screens with a mixer of kerosene and motor oil. It was the only concoction that we found that would slow down the hostile, blood sucking creatures from penetrating the screen and draining your body of all its vital fluids. You were not only fresh meat, but the only meat on their island!<br />
<br />
After a couple days on the island, it was time for some fresh water. You were sticky, smelly, and skin felt like sandpaper due to all the sand sticking to your bug sprayed, sun screened slathered body…. Wilson!<br />
<br />
Well, we grabbed our essentials and devised a plan to remove the crud from our sandy sunburnt bodies.  The walk to the showers wasn’t far, but you had to go to the Gulf side of the island. It was the path of least resistance and the least amount of exposure to the blood sucking critters lying in wait beyond the beautiful sandy beach…<br />
<br />
After a ¼ mile walk we arrived at the path leading us to the clean, pure, fresh water. The path was narrow and zig zaggie with no place to stop. You didn’t dare stop anyway, the guy behind you would run over you or you would be totted off by the Winged Monkeys of Oz. <br />
<br />
We left our towels and apparels of man on the beach. It was a Forest Gump moment…RUN ROY RUN! <br />
With our tightie-whitie blowing in the wind, we made our run beyond the white sands and into the abyss. <br />
<br />
It wasn’t far, maybe 30 yards! We arrived at the well, diving for safety in the water as the winged critters circled. The only protection we had was the continuous cascading of water over our bodies. We were safe! However, the word was out, B U G S radio was ringing the dinner bell. As the skies grew dark from the gathering of winged critters, it was time to exit, exit stage left. <br />
<br />
Our cover was blown with no time to spare…. Run Roy Run! God forbid, we trip…...! As we made our beach landing wearing nothing but smiles, a boat load of people were approaching the beach. We skidded to a stop with nowhere to hide, we were face to face with surprise and delight. All eyes and fingers were pointing at us, the boys from the jungle sporting farmer tans and smiles. <br />
<br />
Run Roy Run! Safe me a spot beneath the cool clean waters!
    This picture brings back a memory of a weekend when we were fishing in Marco Island. The year is about 1973 on a beautiful uninhabited island, where Billy Wyatt (Roy’s dad) built a little cabin on the inland side of the island. The island was about ¾ mile long and ¼ mile wide with a white sandy beach that ran the full length of the island on the Gulf side. It was heaven on earth on the outer edge of the island, but Hell awaited in the middle.

    The only sign of civilization on the island was an old Artesian well gushing a 6-inch column of fresh water higher than your head. It was right in the middle of an overgrown jungle of mangroves and an environment hostile to anything with warm blood.

    The old plywood cabin was about 16x16 with plywood shutters covering metal screens on all four sides. Inside was GI bunks, a table in the middle, a kitchen sink with running water and a gas stove. The water for the sink was collected from the rain and stored in a 55-gallon barrel setting high above the sink. Gravity is your friend, sometimes!

    When you arrived at the island, by boat, the first thing you did was open everything up and spray all the screens with a mixer of kerosene and motor oil. It was the only concoction that we found that would slow down the hostile, blood sucking creatures from penetrating the screen and draining your body of all its vital fluids. You were not only fresh meat, but the only meat on their island!

    After a couple days on the island, it was time for some fresh water. You were sticky, smelly, and skin felt like sandpaper due to all the sand sticking to your bug sprayed, sun screened slathered body…. Wilson!

    Well, we grabbed our essentials and devised a plan to remove the crud from our sandy sunburnt bodies. The walk to the showers wasn’t far, but you had to go to the Gulf side of the island. It was the path of least resistance and the least amount of exposure to the blood sucking critters lying in wait beyond the beautiful sandy beach…

    After a ¼ mile walk we arrived at the path leading us to the clean, pure, fresh water. The path was narrow and zig zaggie with no place to stop. You didn’t dare stop anyway, the guy behind you would run over you or you would be totted off by the Winged Monkeys of Oz.

    We left our towels and apparels of man on the beach. It was a Forest Gump moment…RUN ROY RUN!
    With our tightie-whitie blowing in the wind, we made our run beyond the white sands and into the abyss.

    It wasn’t far, maybe 30 yards! We arrived at the well, diving for safety in the water as the winged critters circled. The only protection we had was the continuous cascading of water over our bodies. We were safe! However, the word was out, B U G S radio was ringing the dinner bell. As the skies grew dark from the gathering of winged critters, it was time to exit, exit stage left.

    Our cover was blown with no time to spare…. Run Roy Run! God forbid, we trip…...! As we made our beach landing wearing nothing but smiles, a boat load of people were approaching the beach. We skidded to a stop with nowhere to hide, we were face to face with surprise and delight. All eyes and fingers were pointing at us, the boys from the jungle sporting farmer tans and smiles.

    Run Roy Run! Safe me a spot beneath the cool clean waters!

  2. Chuck Ferdinandsen says:
    18 Sep 2023
    Roy, we go way back…..from elementary school until we graduated from High School. So many memories growing up…going shrimping, playing poker with your mom, car pooling together to school and leaving early so we can work. You were my best friend growing up and I will cherish those memories. RIP

  3. Kelvin Duncan says:
    15 Sep 2023
    Will miss you ol' buddy ol' pal.
    And the calls reminiscing about the crazy times from decades ago. From Tom's swamp house on Hwy 3 in Merritt Island to the pet armadillo hanging out at the cookouts on Taylor Creek Road. Rest in peace. Later on old fellow.

  4. Greg Brown says:
    15 Sep 2023
    I will always have you in my heart and memories you were my brother since we met always laughing and causing mischief when were together see you on the other side, Love you Bro

  5. Rosemary E Wise says:
    15 Sep 2023
    I will forever miss you! Till we meet again Roy, I love you!!

Send an E-Card

Please select an e-card

    Required fields are marked *
     

    Note: The code below resets with every submit of the form
    captcha